As You've Never Lived Before
by MissKaityScarlett
Summary: After the night of the fire, a heartbroken Erik wanders beneath Paris until he finds himself underneath a struggling theater. There his passion for music is rekindled. With the police searching for him and society's fear of him, Erik accepts that he may never love nor feel loved again. Although, he also finds solace in a beautiful ballerina, who shows him that true love does exist.
1. Shadow in the Rafters

_This is my first Phantom of the Opera story, but I have been wanting to write one for quite some time! This chapter is a bit short due to it being the first chapter but I hope you all enjoy it! ~ Kaity_

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><p><em>1870<em>

_A small theater in Paris, France_

The low hum of woodwinds and strings from the orchestra pit filled the air of the small theater, accompanied by the light kiss of pointe shoes on the wooden stage. A rehearsal was about to begin, but without the stagehand, the ballerinas were left on a stage made bare without any scenery. Madame Therese, the instructor, huffed as she watched the ballerinas onstage practice their piques followed by pirouettes.

"Really, where on earth is that stagehand?" Madame Therese asked the conductor, who shrugged in return. "Has anyone seen Jean?" Madame Therese asked out loud.

A graceful ballerina in the front row raised her head. "I saw him leave this morning, Madame Therese."

"Thank you, Camille."

Camille smiled softly at her instructor and continued to dance. As she danced, she slowly glanced at up the rafters, and to her surprise, someone was standing there. She stopped dancing, causing the other ballerinas around her to stop, as well.

"What is happening?" Madame Therese demanded when her dancers began to stop after the other.

"Jean is up there in the rafters, Madame Therese!" Camille announced. The sudden sound of the heavy theater door slamming followed by heavy footsteps rang through the theater. Jean stumbled into the room. Camille stared, baffled. The other ballerinas giggled and Madame Therese gave Camille a look of disappointment. "I did see someone in the rafters!" Camille confessed once more and looked above at the rafters. No one was there. Surprised and embarrassed, Camille began to blush.

"You did not," Madame Therese said. "Now-" "Madame Therese, there was someone," Camille interrupted. She immediately regretted doing so and bit her lip, lowering her gaze to her scuffed pointe shoes.

Camille's interruption caused Madame Therese to recoil. "Miss Belgarde, if you truly did see someone then it was no one of interest. Jean is here. Do not argue with me." Madame Therese reprimanded as if she had told Camille those words before. Camille had never dared to argue with Madame Therese, she couldn't afford to be cast out of the theater and onto the street. She wouldn't have anywhere to go.

"So, we may finally begin. Did you forget your services are needed, Jean?" Madame Therese accused. The pink-faced stagehand breathlessly held up a newspaper and made his way to the strict mistress as quickly as he could. "Girls, keep dancing!"

"There was an accident!" Jean exclaimed.

The orchestra pit grew quiet and the pitter patter of the pointe shoes upon the stage ceased again. Lady Therese tightened her jaw. "Jean, whatever it is can wait until after. I can't have constant interruption."

"But, Madame, there was a fire at the Opera Populaire last night!"

The ballerinas gasped and began to whisper amongst themselves as Madame Therese grabbed the newspaper from the stagehand. Camille was relieved that she was soon forgotten and the attention was focused on another matter. "The theater is almost completely destroyed on the inside," Jean began, "The chandelier fell onto the audience during a performance of a new opera, _Don Juan Triumphant_, and caused a fire! All of Paris is talking about it! I even overheard a man say that the chandelier did not fall by itself because someone cut it down!"

Madame Therese turned the page of the newspaper. "Who would do such a terrible thing?"

"Some are whispering that it was the Phantom who resided there!" Jean's words made more of the ballerina's gasp with horror.

Madame Therese glared at the girls on stage. "Girls, that is not true. This was merely an accident, I am sure of it. There are no such things as phantoms. Jean, get rid of this paper," Madame Therese ordered as she returned the newspaper back to Jean. "Now that the Opera Populaire is no longer able to be in use, perhaps our humble theater may satisfy the people of Paris. Girls, I must speak to Monsieur Pierre about this. I will have you all back onstage in a short while. Just this time I shall allow an interruption such as this. Go!"

The ballerinas began to make their way off stage in an orderly manner, while two slowly trailed behind. "That's such a frightening thing to happen, isn't it, Camille?"

"It is," Camille agreed as she walked beside her friend. "It makes me worry about our chandelier falling when we're on stage."

Marie laughed nervously. "Our chandelier is a small one. I don't think much damage would happen if it were to fall! And did you really see someone in the rafters? I looked and saw no one!"

"I thought I saw someone," Camille sighed.

"Perhaps it was just a shadow of something else, or you're just tired."

"Perhaps." Camille waited for her friend to join the others backstage since her curiosity was now focused on discovering more about this incident at the Opera Populaire rather than whether or not she saw someone in the rafters. "Jean?" She called out as she went to the edge of the stage.

Jean turned around and nodded at her. "Yes, Miss Camille?"

"You say that you've heard people say that the fire at the Opera Populaire was no accident?"

"That is what I have heard. I heard that it was caused by someone they call the 'Phantom' or the 'Opera Ghost'. He lived within the opera house, I heard. But he isn't a ghost at all! Witnesses say he is a monster! They saw him and then he disappeared, kidnapping a young girl like yourself! The girl is safe now but no one knows where the Phantom is."

"That sounds outrageous, Jean! Do you believe it?"

"It is what I heard, Miss Camille," Jean smiled, "And I think it's more fascinating if you do believe it."

"It can be," Camille agreed, "But stories can be exaggerated when told over again, Jean. I'm sure it happened quite differently. I shall see you when rehearsal begins." Camille left the stage and joined the other ballerinas. She wanted to rid of the frightening idea of a Phantom wandering through Paris but it was the most exciting story she had heard in very long time.

When Madame Therese returned and rehearsal went on as planned, she was in a much better mood then before. "We must be perfect!" she announced at the end of rehearsal. "The people of Paris are now looking to us! We shall bring publicity to our theater, expand our choices for performances and finally receive a patron! How fortunate we are! I have spoken to Monsieur Pierre and he has decided that some changes will happen within our theater. Those changes are to take place in the near future. Now, go have something to eat. You girls have worked very well today."

"What changes do you think will happen?" A young ballerina asked as the others went to their shared rooms.

"Perhaps we shall do new ballets!" "Operas!"

"I do hope so!" Camille smiled.

"As do I!" Marie said as she followed the girls. "Oh and your hair pin is about to fall, Camille!"

"Oh!" Camille's hair pin fell to the floor with a light clang. When she picked it up and stood, a shadow fell across her face and then across her entire self.

"Marie?" Camille's friend was gone. Fearfully, Camille gazed up at the stage rafters and saw a dark figure standing above her. She recognized it as possibility the same as before. The figure was quiet and still as the rafter gently swayed from side to side, knocking slightly into the rafter next to it. Although the figure was saying nothing to her, she felt that whomever it was had a malicious presence.

"Jean, are you up there now?" She called out. But Jean's boisterous laughter was heard in front of the stage. To be sure it was truly him, Camille poked her head out from behind the curtain and saw Jean laughing and telling a bawdy tale to one of the men that clean the stage. It was strange, she thought. She glanced back up at the rafter and whomever had been standing there moments before had left. The rafter which the person was standing on was left swinging side to side. Camille had only seen Jean up in the rafters, but this could not have been Jean, for Jean was standing right before her, laughing and talking and Jean was not in the theater the previous time she saw someone. The person that was above her seemed too tall and thin to be Jean, anyway. But Camille could not think of whom it could have been. She went into the shared room for the girls, eager to tell Marie of what she had just seen.

"Marie, I just saw something very strange…"

Marie stood next to her bed, slipping on a dress. "Again? What did you see, Camille?"

"I saw someone standing above the rafters again." Camille set her hairpin on her bed and sat down.

"Isn't there always someone on the rafters? It was probably Jean."

"But it wasn't Jean this time and it wasn't Jean the first time. Jean was in front of the stage when I saw someone a few moments ago, I checked," Camille explained trying to remember if she could see a face concealed in the darkness above her. "I can't say who it was."

"I wouldn't worry too much. There's many people who work here and are at all places. If you're worried, you may tell Madame Therese you saw someone again."

"No, no," Camille said, "Madame Therese is always so busy and I'm afraid she'll be quite upset with me if I were to bother her again with shadows in the rafters."

"Oh, that sounds like a tale or horror!" Marie giggled. "Now I'll always look up at the rafters to see if I catch a shadow." She buttoned up her dress and began to walk out of the room. "Let's have supper, Camille. Food will get your mind off of shadows."

"It should." Camille followed her friend out of the room but glanced up at the rafters before they were out of her sight. Jean was up there at the rafters now, adjusting the ropes and skillfully going from rafter to rafter. With a sigh of relief, she turned away from the rafters and went to supper, unaware of the shadow that hung over her as she walked away.


	2. Music in the Night

"Now, my dancers," Madame Therese began as she paced across the stage, being sure to make eye contact with each ballerina. A new day had begun and a new rehearsal began along with it. "We are to have our first show at the end of this month," she continued, "Since Monsieur Pierre is the owner of our theatre and that is what he wishes we must obey him. We have been rehearsing well and I trust that you ladies will be absolutely perfect for the opening. We believe we shall have a full house during the nights of the performances, as well. Now, let us begin our rehearsal. Jean, are you ready with the scenery?"

"Yes, Madame Therese!" Jean's voice was heard from the rafters. Camille lifted her eyes and saw that it truly was Jean above her. With that comfort in mind, she gracefully began to dance with the other ballerinas, each as skilled and graceful as the next. Out of the corner of her eye, Camille could see the maestro raising and lowering his arms in a slow yet sudden fashion. The violin, at first staccato, soon presented notes that were long and beautiful, accompanied by the entrance of a somber cello. Camille softly smiled as she let the music carry her across the stage. The beautiful sound of music hypnotized her and she truly felt happiness when it engulfed her soul and mind.

"Miss Belgarde!"

Camille stopped and stood up straight, turning towards her instructor. "Yes, Madame Therese?"

"Why are you smiling? Is there something humorous about this dance? Tell us, please," Madame Therese demanded.

"I- No, Madame Therese, I was only enjoying the music." Camille became meek as she heard a ballerina giggle behind her. The maestro smiled and nodded to Camille in gratitude.

"Thank you, Miss," he said.

Madame Therese sighed and crossed her arms. "Miss Belgarde, as much as you may enjoy the music, one must keep a neutral face while dancing this dance. Do so, please. Ladies, Maestro, let us continue."

Once again, she had embarrassed herself in front of her troupe and her instructor. It was another fault against her that could have her cast out into the streets of Paris alone, but Camille danced on, without a smile, but her heart full of music as it was before. Rehearsal went on until the late hours of the night, and each girl was exhausted from a day of dancing. Sore limbs and aching bodies gracefully tread off the stage to the small dining area.

"Have any of you had curious thoughts about that monster from the Opera Populaire?" A girl asked as she bit into a piece of bread. Some girls nodded in agreement.

"I think he doesn't exist. Monsters aren't real," another girl added.

"People can be monsters!" One interjected.

"But, if he did exist," Marie began, "He could have been killed in the fire."

"Or he escaped…" "What if he's here now?"  
>The ballerinas burst into a fit of nervous laughter. Camille remained quiet and dipped her bread into her soup. She had always been a girl easy to frighten and now this talk of the phantom and monster was making her feel uneasy. Although tales of the grotesque and supernatural seemed to fascinate and entertain her thoughts, they became more prominent at night when all is dark and she is trying to sleep.<p>

When the girls had had their fill of bread and soup, they each went to their shared bedroom. Camille went immediately to her bed and changed into her nightgown.

"We should tell a story of horror!" Marie announced bouncing upon her bed on her knees. The other ballerinas chimed in with agreement.

"But what shall we tell?"

"Camille has a book of tales by that American writer, Poe, don't you, Camille?"

Camille glanced over at the girls. She did have a copy of the tales of Edgar Allan Poe under her bed, and she sometimes did read from it to the girls, but she only read the tales she knew would not frighten herself to the point of which sleep could not be achieved after the tale ended.

"But we're all tired, aren't we?" Camille asked.

"Not exhausted enough to not hear a tale!" Marie giggled. "Come, Camille, tell us a story of shadows in the rafters." Marie grinned at her and Camille turned away from her friend.

"Fine," she agreed. "One story only. If Madame Therese were to hear us, we will all get into trouble, though."

"We're young women, we don't need to be constantly scolded," Marie laughed and lay on her stomach. The other girls quickly changed into their nightgowns and got comfortable on and in their beds.

"Which one shall I read?" Camille asked as she sat on her bed.

"Something new," she heard.

Camille nodded and opened the book of stories that made her forget how to fall asleep peacefully. She flipped through the thin and crinkled pages, causing dust to fill the air. She coughed and quickly opened the book to a random page. "'The Masque of Red Death'?"

"Oh, that sounds frightfully interesting! Read it!" Marie ordered. The room became quiet and Camille saw that all eyes were on her now. "The Masque of Red Death"was a tale that she had been avoiding simply because of its name. What could be more frightening than a mask signifying death? She would much rather read "Annabel Lee", a poem of lost love. With slight hesitation, she began to read the tale.

"The 'Red Death' had long devastated the country. No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous…"

The tale came to life in the mind of the ballerinas as Camille read out loud. They gasped at the gruesomeness of the Red Death and sighed at the sound of a masquerade ball but recoiled in horror at the festivities of the ball and the horror that took place there. Camille read on, not knowing how much time had passed when she had finished the short story. She had become so engrossed in the tale, feeling the fear that the guests of the ball felt when they laid their eyes upon the masked stranger who brought death and destruction to all who dared to look his way.

When she had finished the story, the candles were blown out and each girl was in bed, closing their eyes and falling into a deep sleep. All except for Camille were breathing soundly. Camille lay in bed on her side closing her eyes and thinking, but certainly not sleeping. She kept her eyes tightly closed for if she were to open them, she knew she would see a masked figure staring back at her and engulfing her with death and darkness. Minutes passed, perhaps even an hour passed before she began to dream. The theater had become Prospero's palace and she was an unfortunate guest who had been invited to the masqueraded ball. The curtains of the stage had become vibrant red again and the edges were laced with shimmering gold thread. The ballerinas danced around, dressed in white and gold, with masks to conceal their identities. Their hair was held high by ribbons with feathers. The ceiling above her was a giant mirror and her own awed reflection stared back at her. Her dark hair lay in ringlets and fell below her shoulders. Gold glitter had been dabbed around her eyes and a touch of rogue rested upon her lips. Laughter and chatter filled the theater around her but all became quiet when a faint sound replaced all else.

_Music._

Music! Camille opened her eyes and sat up in bed, breathing heavily as she awakened to reality. She couldn't see anything other than her knees below her blankets, but she could tell that the other girls had still been sleeping. She sat still and listened past the light breathing and snoring in the room to hear what she could have sworn had filled her head and dream.

Silence.

With a sigh, Camille slowly lay back down in her bed, slowly her eyelids grew heavier and she allowed to sleep to begin to take her. A low tune awakened her once more, but when she opened her eyes she continued to hear the strange sound of music. She slowly pulled her covers back and slipped out of bed, taking the candelabra from her bedside table as she did so. She tip-toed past the sleeping girls, avoiding any floorboards that squeaked when met with footsteps. She trusted her senses and allowed her eyes to get adjusted to the darkness so as not to run into anything or anyone and cause havoc. When she was out of the room and in the small hall, she held her candelabra to the flames of a lit torch on the wall and could finally see in front of herself. She walked down the hall and found herself backstage, listening to the music, which was becoming louder. Since the music was now clearer to her, she recognized that the instrument used was an organ. She thought it strange since she did not recall the theater ever being in possession of an organ, but perhaps the Maestro had gotten one secretly and a musician found that this was his only time to play it.

The music led her through backstage, and she jumped in fear when she turned her head towards the wall and saw an abundance of masks hanging from the wall staring at her. Some were simple and plain masks but others were masks that looked like monsters and devils. One even resembled what she imagined the "Masque of Red Death" to look like. Adjacent to her feet lay a simple white mask. Since it was the least frightening mask out of the ones she had seen, she picked it up. It was smooth and cold to the touch, and she slowly moved her fingers across it. The music ceased and Camille immediately looked toward the stage curtain. She could see no light on the stage and in the theater through the thick velvet. It was the black room in the frightening tale she had just read. As she walked towards the curtain, the music began again. The fast paced beating of her heart pounded through her throat and filled her ears. With the white mask in hand, Camille stood behind the curtain and accepted her fate and she swung it open.

She was met with darkness but not silence.

She stood in the middle of the stage with her candelabra and started out into the dark theater, trying to hear where the sound of the organ was truly coming from. She then realized that the organ was coming from below the stage. The stage hummed slightly from the music beneath it and she stared down at the stage. She did not understand how there could be music from underneath her and it made her curious. She knelt down on the stage, set her candelabra down next to her and lay the mask before her. She slowly lowered herself and placed her ear against the floor. She decided that someone had to be underneath the stage playing the organ, but what was under the stage, she believed, was the sewer. She also knew that the organ was not directly under the stage, for what she was hearing was echoes of the organ further away.

The beautiful music was even louder now and she smiled at the sound of it. It was unlike anything she had heard before. The music had a melancholic tone to it, but it was beautiful to her. It truly sounded as if it were from the soul.

"Beautiful," she breathed against the wooden stage. When the song came to an end, she remained listening and hoping that another song would begin again, but nothing followed. The flames of her candelabra blew out and she was left in darkness. She gasped and the sound of her heartbeat became evident again.

"Hello?" She asked the darkness. She found her candelabra in the blackness and immediately held it to herself. "Is anyone here?" She asked again.

She heard the rafters above her creak as if someone was walking amongst them, listening to her and watching her. She began to tremble in fear. "Hello?" She quaked.

A strong hand grabbed her arm in the darkness and her mouth was covered before she could scream. Her candelabra fell loudly across the stage as she struggled to break free. Before she could run away from whomever or whatever was holding her back, she felt herself falling and crashing into darkness.


End file.
